


What He Doesn't Know Can Always Hurt Someone Else

by MellytheHun



Series: Kylux Tumblr Prompts [10]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Drabble, Established Relationship, Heavy Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tragedy, Tumblr Prompt, super sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 03:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19142923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellytheHun/pseuds/MellytheHun
Summary: pockypuck asked: "Sorry," KyluxSend me a “Sorry” and I’ll write a drabble about one character apologizing to the other (hurting the other’s feelings, do something that angered the other, etc)





	What He Doesn't Know Can Always Hurt Someone Else

“Is he okay?” Hux asks one of the Knights, kneeling over Ren, letting his eyes rake over Ren’s unconscious body, fear writ over his pale face as more moments pass without so much as a twitch from Ren.

Taori Ren, the Knight Hux had spoken to, leans forward, and presses his palm to one of Ren’s, shutting his eyes. His eyes move beneath the lids, as though he is reading data forms.

His forehead tightens in concern, and his voice is unsure when it finally comes, “something… is gone. There are scratch marks, as though he was holding onto something very desperately, but it has been… _ripped_ from his inner grasp.”

Brows curving in, Hux worries at Taori, “what does that mean?”

“I can’t know yet,” Taori answers honestly, opening his eyes.

Taori calls over another Knight to gently pull Ren to wakefulness, and when that is done, they ask Ren simple questions, gauging what sort of damage is left over from the psychic attack that he’d been so thrown by. 

With little help to offer, Hux hangs back, wringing his wrists, anxiety building, and when finally Ren insists he stand up on his own, and not be interrogated anymore, Hux freezes up in anticipation. 

Although it’s a quiet, and weak attempt to stop the confrontation, Taori  _does_ do, and say something in Hux’s periphery, meaning to keep him from speaking to Ren, and Ren to him. 

Hux can’t imagine why.

“Ren - you’re well?” Hux asks casually, ready to go back to their ship, and wash their hands of the ordeal.

At the inquiry, Ren’s brow quirks, and his eyes narrow in an unfamiliar way.

“Have we met before?”

So simply, and so immediately, Hux understands what Taori was trying to barely say, why he was trying to intercept Ren, and still, more over, why he couldn’t do anything to stop it. 

Hux has no idea what to do at first, wanting to laugh, but knowing he probably shouldn’t laugh.

He should scream, he should weep, or throw a fit - anything other than laugh, really.

He doesn’t do any of those things, though. 

His body is wired, maybe even visibly shaking with the need for control over his reaction.

He can’t panic, he can’t scream, or weep, or maim his way through this.

He bites off a piece of the inside of his lower lip, sucks at the blood there, hating himself, unsure of what to do, or how to act.

At a loss to do anything else, he finds himself replying, unsteadily, “… no. No, we haven’t.”

“You’re the General, then?” Ren asks, gesturing to the cuff of Hux’s uniform that denotes his rank.

“Yes,” Hux answers robotically.

“You must be the one I’m assigned to,” Ren surmises, tilting his head, “Why wouldn’t you just say so?”

There are a few empty beats where Hux is positive that if he speaks, his voice will crack, or come out too hoarse.

Silence falls for that short while, then Hux looks down at his boots, and replies, “haven’t the slightest, honestly. Nerves, I suppose. My apologies.”

Ren extends his hand, then, and says politely (if a bit gruffly), “well, proper introductions should be made. I am Kylo Ren, leader of the Knights of Ren.”

“Yes,” Hux responds, offering his hand slowly, “I’m… you may call me by title, or ‘Hux,’ - either is fine.”

When Ren takes Hux’s hand to shake, something in the air shifts.

It’s the physical contact that does it - their palms pressing together, really, is the key, and Hux doesn’t know why he knows that, but he can tell by just the look on Ren’s face.

Eyes wide and dark, Ren leans in closer, his grip turning into a crushing vice as he announces, “this is… wrong.”

“What is?” Hux asks nervously, stomach twisting up in knots.

“Your aura,” Ren answers, his eyes turning to contemplative, suspicious slits, “Our auras match.”

“I can’t imagine what you mean,” Hux replies, truly meaning it, “Even if they match, auras must match between strangers every day. What significance could it possibly have?”

“ _No_ ,” Ren growls, his eyes flitting everywhere over Hux’s body, “Our energies - they’re all over each other. Your base aura is yellow, indicative of the analytical, and anxiety-prone. My aura is red, indicative of passion, and ambition.”

“So, we _don’t_ match, then -”

“That’s our _base_ auras,” Ren interrupts, “I can only see it at the corners of our beings. The both of us are exuding an amber orange aura, which typically represents a clarity of vision, our third eye chakras are both open, but not naturally so - it is as if we have influenced those third eyes open within our interactions, and understanding of oneself, each other, our environment, others, and our respective places in the universe. The amber orange is also heavily associated with remarkable bravery, empathy, and inner strength.”

“I’ve no idea what any of that means, or that it should mean anything at all,” Hux tells him, trying to pry his hand back, but losing that battle quickly.

“It means our souls are cosmically entwined.”

Hux stops moving at that, and he finally meets Ren’s eyes again, scared of the blankness that awaits him there. 

Ren is staring down at him with genuine confusion, and while what he’s doing could be called ‘marveling,’ there is an air of danger to it.

Ren does not appear pleased with his findings.

“Which means…?”

“Which means we have known one another in past lives, that we have known one another in nearly all dimensions, and have allowed our auras to bleed all over each other in each reality. My aura has always been red, and yours has probably always been yellow - my red has bled into your yellow, and your yellow has bled into my red, creating this amber orange aura shared between us. And that means you’re lying.”

Hux pales, and Ren’s eyes traipse downward, to Hux’s sternum, “your heart chakra - it’s damaged, scarred, but healing. My energies surround it. And you have two of them… why would you have two heart chakras?”

“I have no idea what you’re -”

“Two-faced, secretive, manipulative, but well-meaning, I wager,” Ren guesses, staring at Hux’s chest like he can see through it, “You have a public persona, and a highly private self; one heart chakra is a mask for the other to wear - the private one is wounded, but with my aid has healed immensely. You cannot bear to be parted with your second heart, though. Fear, I suspect, considering your base aura. Your anxiety must keep you tied to this need for a mask.”

“You’re certainly one to talk,” Hux mutters bitterly, finally able to take his hand back.

“Why would you lie to me?” Ren inquires, stepping closer to Hux, “It is clear we know one another intimately - have you altered my memories?”

“He is not Force-sensitive, Master Kylo Ren,” Taori Ren calls out, drawing attention to himself, “It was Sol Ren. You have dispatched him, but before you could do so, he… forcibly removed a considerable number of your memories. The General is at no fault.”

Ren looks back to Hux, and eyes him up and down a few times, “… no more lies. Have we met before?”

Hesitating briefly, Hux eventually answers, “yes.”

“How long have we known one another?”

“Six standard years.”

“What is the nature of our relationship?”

Hux opens his mouth to answer, but no noise comes out.

He halts where he is, his chest constricts, his throat tightens, and nothing happens. His eyes start to feel hot.

“ _General_ ,” Ren emphasizes, feeling so far out of reach Hux can barely stand another minute of being near him, “ _What_ is the nature of our relationship?”

“You remember nothing?”

Ren watches in what can only be described as abject horror as Hux’s eyes brim with tears, and his pale face looks feverishly red. 

“… should I?”

Hux lets out some wounded noise from deep in his chest, and he bends, backing away from Ren, intent on getting back to the ship, and back to his private quarters, and maybe back to his sanity, if there’s any left to be had.

“No. No, you should not,” Hux replies despondently. 

“General,” Taori regards kindly - but Hux doesn’t look his way.

His glassy eyes drop down Ren’s face, to his chest, then to the ground, and he mumbles, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I… I can’t - just - let this be. I’m sorry.”

As Hux is turning away, and leaving for the travel pod that will take him back to the ship, Taori calls after him with concern laced in his voice.

He watches Hux throw something into the dirt of the grassy planet and, though Ren won’t move at all for it (more inclined, apparently, to glare at the General’s back for some perceived slight), Taori is willing to fetch it.

He stares at the white gold ring in his hand, turning it over a few times before he shuts his eyes, and curls his fingers around it, pressing it into his palm, drawing what information he can from it.

In flashes, Ren is bare, and submitting to Hux - gladly - the feeling of safety, and freedom he exudes, even in the memory stored there, is contagious, and gleeful. Then there is a shower, shared - it is a ritual, a place revisited time and again by Hux and Ren, and they wash one another with familiar hands, and a tenderness Taori has never known. 

Then there’s Hux, wearing dark robes he intends to sleep in, his hair wet, and unkempt, eyes tired, and body sated, but as he enters his sleeping quarters, Ren is walking up to him, stopping Hux’s trajectory toward their shared bed. Ren kneels before Hux, and presents a velvet box, and Hux’s heart is a thunderous choir - elation, disbelief, suspension, unadulterated joy, comfort, relief, and a deep desire to cry into Ren’s chest is present. 

Marriage.

Ren intended to marry the General, Taori realizes, pulling his mind’s eye out from the ring.

“Well?” Ren asks, approaching slowly, “What is it that he threw?”

Taori pockets the ring, and keeps his psyche well-guarded from intrusion before lying, “nothing of significance, Master Kylo Ren.”

“Very well,” Ren replies, “Return me to the ship. I must speak with Master Snoke about this matter - I don’t know that I care for this General.”

Taori shakes his head sadly, and responds simply, “yes, Master Kylo Ren.”


End file.
